


Midnight Bells

by ignipes



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes





	Midnight Bells

Dean tastes like bourbon and sugar, brandy and spice, and his kisses are sloppy and clumsy as he pushes Sam onto the bed.

Sam doesn't fight it. He laughs and lets himself fall, closes his eyes against the whiskey blur of the darkened motel room. Dean's body is a warm weight straddling Sam's legs and pressing onto his chest, one hand twisted almost painfully in Sam's hair and the other fumbling roughly at the edge of his shirt.

"Too many--" Dean shoves the shirt up, runs his hand over the skin of Sam's chest, "--fucking layers." His voice is low and slurred, and he groans when Sam arches his back and pushes against him.

"So do something--" Sam starts to growl a response but Dean stops him, shuts him up with a kiss that's whiskey and impatience and entirely too much amusement, and Sam's just about given up trying to orders his thoughts into something coherent when Dean stops.

Just stops. Stops kissing Sam, stops skating his fingers over Sam's chest, stops with his face inches away from Sam's own, his breath fast and uneven but his body perfectly still.

"Dean, what--"

"_Shh_."

And he hears it: the clock tower at the center of town, only a block away, is tolling the hour.

_One, two, three._

Sam counts to himself, and in the dark he thinks he can see Dean's lips moving silently.

_Four, five, six_.

He can feel Dean's hardening dick against his leg, his heart thudding under Dean's hand, Dean's hot breath on his face, the chill of the motel room surrounding them.

_Seven, eight, nine._

He moves slowly, reaches one hand up to brush his fingers through Dean's hair, rubs the other over Dean's arm and shoulder and back, enjoying the heat of his skin and tracing the lines of his muscles through the thin t-shirt.

_Ten, eleven, twelve._

The clock falls silent, and Dean leans down to kiss Sam again, sweet and slow this time, teasing and earnest at all once, his impatience gone.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers.

Sam curves his hand around the back of Dean's neck and pulls him closer. "Yeah," he says, his voice barely a breath against Dean's lips. "You too."


End file.
